Michelle Lee

E0010849

In the chapter The Angel Azraeel in The Satanic Verses, Saladin recounts a short story in

which a man refuses to forgive a close friend for a vase that she breaks. To his wife Pamelas

objections that it was just a vase, Saladin responds: Nobody can judge an internal injury [...] by the

size of the superficial wound, of the hole. (Rushdie, 419) The metaphor of the image runs

throughout The Satanic Verses, as a means by which the visible exterior and the invisible interior are

confused, made to swap places, or merged into one. Through his use of the image, Rushdie addresses

themes of identity, desire, and religious belief. What links these three themes together is the idea of

subjective perception. Rushdie suggests that outside judgment of the belief of others is always

impossible; instead, he uses a visual cacophony of images as a means of encapsulating pluralistic

belief in modern society.

The image in the form of physical appearance serves as a manifestation of ones inner self.

However, much like Lacans idea of the mirror stage of development, examining ones reflection

invariably produces a self-conscious awareness of others scrutiny. Through the use of the image as

reflection, Rushdie depicts the schism his characters feel between the way they perceive themselves

and the world perceives them, in a form of self-consciousness akin to Dubois concept of the double

consciousness. The characters attempts at changing their exterior are thus invariably performance,

as they are forced to take on a doubled perspective of themselves. Gibreel and Saladin are left acutely

conscious of both interior and exterior; of the internal injury done to ones identity and how it may be

perceived - as merely a superficial hole.

In Gibreels visions of Mahound, his point of view switches between camera and participant.

The fundamentally image-based medium of film makes the divide between spectator and actor

particularly clear; he is both physically and intellectually detached from the action, either floating
up on a high crane or [sitting] up on Mount Cone like a paying customer in the dress circle. His

intellectual detachment from the action taking place is shown by the way he watches and weighs [it]

up like any movie fan; as a spectator, he is able to [enjoy] the fights infidelities moral crises

without having to suffer through them. (110)

Gibreels initial detachment is replaced by panic as he becomes not only spectator, but actor.

His doubled self becomes literally manifest in the form of a double role, acting both Mahound and

the archangel simultaneously. As his two selves draw closer to meeting, the fear that builds up in

Gibreel comes from [wanting] like mad to be worthy. (111) Switching away from an impersonal

act of judgment, Gibreels harshest critic turns out to be himself. Yet the conventions of the image

and sight drive home the impossibility of reconciling the self once fragmented and made self-

conscious. Gibreel can only ever have one point of view at a time, as per the limitations of film; to

pull off this double role, each of his selves must speak to empty air, to the imagined incarnation of

the other. The narration alternates dizzyingly between two points of view, culminating in a literal

confrontation between Gibreels two selves. Yet, curiously, the confrontation between his two selves

seems to be a struggle to see who can submit to the other, and through submission, win the fight. The

confrontation is ultimately performance, in front of an audience of dijinns and afreets. (125) The

voice forced out of archangel-Gibreel is involuntary, like sick; he is simultaneously subject and

object, winner and loser, thanks to his fractured identity. As such, the external image - where all that

is visible is a man and an angel wrestling - connects Gibreel as both watcher and watched, as outside

and inside himself.

The nature of sight and seeing blurs the line between what is real and what is illusion through

the visions of the characters. In their visions, images serve as manifestations of real desires and real

beliefs, making the unseen visible. The associations between sight and truth - seeing is believing -
disrupt any pre-existing attitudes that what is unseen, such as desire, love, or belief, is somehow less

important than the concrete. In this case, the hole and the wound are one and the same in terms of

importance; the unseen becomes as valid and as resonant as what is supposedly concrete and thus

more real.

The transformative force which places the unseen on the same plane as the real is the

conviction which the characters have in their visions. In certain parts of the book, this manifests as

schizophrenic hallucinations; in others, as religious fervour. As Gibreel wanders the city, convinced

of his angelic nature, he persistently sees Rekha Merchant appear on her flying carpet. In a moment

of lucidity, he realizes that this is not the real Rekha in any objective, psychologically or

corporeally consistent manner. (334) Yet, though Gibreel is hallucinating, he is filled with the

absolute faith that what he sees is true. As readers, the narrative forces us to see the world through his

perspective, even when doubt is cast upon it by the reactions of passers-by - if Gibreel enlarges his

person, he visibly grows larger, for instance. (347) These visions provide tangible evidence of the

strength of Gibreels convictions. His convictions can be understood in relation to Talal Asads

discussion of internal and external expressions of belief. Asad cites John Lockes definition of belief

as unable to be willed; rather it must come from a sincere perception that ones beliefs are true.

(Asad, 45) In Islamic law, an individuals faith can only originate within oneself, epistemologically

supported by sensory experience (42), and separate from external profession of religious doctrine.

Rushdies use of the image thus highlights this approach to belief as both internal and external; the

external disbelief of onlookers is unable to pass judgment upon the strength of Gibreels absolute

internal belief, as translated by his sensory perceptions.

Finally, the two points above can be used in conjunction with Saba Mahmoods theory of

schesis to understand the emotional weight which images carry for characters in the novel. Rather
than being signifiers to be interpreted by individuals, with the meaning of the signifier located within

the individuals interiority, Mahmood posits that religious icons are the mark of relationality between

the religious subject and the devotee. (Mahmood, 76-78) This sense of relation to the religious figure

is imbued with a deep sense of intimacy, familiarity, and desire toward mimesis. As such, to attack

the image is to attack this relation. The bafflement from the Western world in response to the

anguish felt over the Danish cartoons neatly mimics Pamelas puzzlement at the deep hurt felt over

a seemingly superficial wound.

One of the most striking examples of this internal anguish in The Satanic Verses does not

concern a religious icon, but instead, the way in which Saladins father attempts to reanimate the

spirit of his dead wife. The intimate emotional bond between Saladin and his mother illuminates the

reverence held for religious iconography elsewhere in the book as well as the modern Muslim

community.

The crumbling faade of Scandal Point, the unnaturally preserved interior of the mansion

against decay, the ghost Saladin sees, rumours of his fathers insanity, and conspiring servants, all

draw upon the genre of the gothic. As is typical of the genre, the mansions interior is also a

psychological interiority which the two outsiders journey into, a reflection of Saladins fathers mind

and a place where normal rules and customs become topsy-turvy. Inside, surfaces are questioned and

images are no longer what they seem. In an instance of the unreliability of ones vision, Saladin lets

out a cry when he thinks he sees his mother, but it turns out to merely be his old ayah. (66) In this

atmosphere, emotions become more useful than images in understanding what is truly going on;

despite Saladins attempts to be reasonable, he can still sense a wrongness in the air. The horror

which Saladin senses as he journeys into his childhood home is revealed in the form of the perverse

play-acting his father and the two servants engage in to keep [his late mothers] spirit alive.
Through Saladins eyes, the memory of his dead mother is desecrated by the lingering suggestion of

sexual impropriety between his father and his ayah. He speaks of his fathers actions in terms of

corruption, accusing him of being sick, of poisoning [Vallabh and Kasturbas] lives. (68-69)

The sense of the grotesque is accentuated by the warping of moral lines. Despite being a servant,

Kasturba acts like a mistress, and despite her age, she acts with overt sensuality; the boundaries of

conjugality are transgressed by the way Vallabh watch[es] unemotionally while his employer [...]

placed an arm around his uncomplaining wife. Even though his mother no longer strictly exists

outside of his mind, and it is Kasturba in mimicry of his mother, not his mother herself, who stands

before him now, the anguish Saladin feels is as if his mother herself is being violated. Despite her

death, he invokes her presence as if she were still present, accusing his father of sinning in [his]

mothers house. His sense of injury is akin to religious outrage. Saladin sees his father as satanic;

the evil is so acute that he imagines an inferno beneath him. Kasturba is not simply a warped image

of his mother, whom Saladin can separate from her; his fathers actions are a form of blasphemous

worship. (69)

Interestingly, his father and the two servants also conflate the image of Saladins mother with

his mothers spirit, perhaps more profoundly. Kasturba asserts that their actions are an expression of

love for Saladins mother; she sees this mimesis as keep[ing] her spirit alive. From her point of

view, there is nothing wrong with her employers actions towards her because she becomes the living

embodiment of his late wife. Vallabh likens their actions to pooja, a form of Hindu worship in

which a deity is welcomed as an honored guest, often embodied by either an idol or a living person.

England-educated Saladin with a head full of hay is seen as imposing foreign value systems onto

their form of worship. This is implicitly implied by the quintessentially British genre of the gothic
novel, with its often racialized undertones and its promotion of Western rationality over native

insanity.

In presenting this alternate relationship to the image, Rushdie represents (according to Feroza

Jussawalla) the Islam he grew up with, which is innately syncretic and post-colonial. Jussawalla

quotes Rushdie on the role of the author as first [constructing] pictures of the world and then

[stepping] into the frames. (Jussawalla, 53) Rushdie uses the construct of the picture to encompass

highly personal and contextualized forms of identity, belief, and worship. This argument can be used

in defense of the work, which Rushdie states was not meant to be blasphemous; rather, it can be seen

as a hybrid and kaleidoscopic imaginary which encompasses pluralistic expressions of belief.

Bibliography

Asad, Talal, Brown, Wendy, Butler, Judith, & Mahmood, Saba. (2009). Is Critique

Secular? Blasphemy, Injury, and Free Speech. UC Berkeley: Townsend Center for the

Humanities.

Jussawalla, Feroza F. "Rushdie's Dastan-E-Dilruba: The Satanic Verses as Rushdie's

Love Letter to Islam." Diacritics 26, no. 1 (1996): 50-73. doi:10.1353/dia.1996.0006.

Rushdie, Salman. The satanic verses. New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks,

2008.